


always holding your love supreme

by daisuga



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Minor Character Death, Undefined Relationship, ambigous but happy!, names are important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisuga/pseuds/daisuga
Summary: Struggling on the floor of JFK Airport, Seungkwan meets a face he never thought he would, after three years.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Comments: 13
Kudos: 59





	always holding your love supreme

**Author's Note:**

> this was a monster to write.
> 
> to my soulmate, thank you for proofreading.  
> to the gc (you guys know who you are) this is for you three <3
> 
> title from: 45 by bleachers
> 
> (guess what filipino movie the premise is based off of)

Seungkwan knew that he looked weird: a Korean crying on the floor of JFK Airport with his baggage in front of him, chucking selected clothes into the trashcan next to him. Thankfully none of those people who passed by him made any remarks; in retrospect, they were probably scared, but he’ll take what he can get.

If he was put through English one more time, he might just die.

He tried hard to close the (still seemingly full) baggage, complete with sitting on it and struggling with the placement of his limbs while trying to zip the whole thing up.

Finally closing it, he took the two baggage on hand and went on to try to weigh it again, only to see a disappointing _30.10 kg_. He could almost feel the tears coming when the consul told him that his baggage was _still_ too heavy.

He closed his eyes hard and tried to calm himself down, only to jump and crumble when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

“You can use my extra baggage space, if you want.”

Slowly, he turned, dread rising up from his gut to his throat, heart being pulled down at the same time. Once he was fully facing the stranger with wide eyes, the face of the one who spoke instantly morphed into a similar expression.

“Hansol?” His hands were shaking so he pocketed them—another attempt at calming down, but the rush was already there and he _just wanted to go home already_ , at that moment, more than anything.

He willed himself to not say anything, but this was Vernon in front of him. His old best friend. His old love. One of the main reasons why he even went to New York.

And as always, Vernon broke his brain-to-mouth filter.

“ _Hansol_ ,” he whispered, eyes glassy and dazed. “Hansol, I still love you.”

* * *

Once Seungkwan realized what he said, he immediately fumbled, tight-lipped and embarrassed, before turning around and taking his stuff off the platform and retreated to his spot next to the trash can.

Vernon followed him, awkward but still concerned.

Vernon didn’t expect this to happen when he decided to go back to Korea. New York had been suffocating for him, and just a few hours ago he was thinking about Seungkwan, too, despite drifting away from him, which was honestly his fault.

It had been three years since they last talked or seen each other personally. Vernon still saw (stalked) him on Instagram on an almost daily basis. Photos of Seungkwan hanging out with their mutual friends in Korea were still spread out on his Facebook newsfeed and he couldn’t help it. You can’t just _not_ miss Seungkwan.

He couldn’t help but stare at Seungkwan, feeling like everything was suddenly set on fire.

“I don’t need your help, Vernon.”

The ‘ _Vernon’_ sounded like it _should_ have stung, which was probably why it did. 

“You obviously need it, Seungkwan.”

He did, but Seungkwan didn’t _want_ it. Not from Vernon, of all people. He wondered why the universe had been so mean to him this month, because out of everything that could happen, Vernon finding his pathetic self crying on the floor of an airport took the cake.

“Fuck off.”

“Do you really want me to leave you like this?” Vernon frowned, sighing. They had the same flight, and even though he didn’t want to face his past like this, either, he also couldn’t just leave Seungkwan like this. “If you don’t turn around on the count of three, I really am going to leave.”

Seungkwan was silent, and Vernon drank in the sight of his back slumped over his baggage: messy red hair, and the sweater that Vernon knew so well.

“One.”

Seungkwan breathed in, and Vernon saw the way his shoulders moved.

“Two.”

He stared at Seungkwan’s nape, the gentle slope of his neck, the memory of Vernon against it, like he was made to slot against Seungkwan.

“Three.”

When Seungkwan didn’t move, Vernon turned around, walking one, two steps, before he felt a hand clutch his arm.

He closed his eyes in relief.

“Hansol, _wait_.”

* * *

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in when Seungkwan seemed to forget about everything and turned to him after loading their baggage into the cart.

“Hansol,” he reached out hesitantly, stopped for a moment and then ended up holding Vernon's hand. “thank you.”

It felt so good, because it was as if three years of avoidance and silent yearning didn’t happen. It was as if they were still best friends eating _tteokbokki_ in the wee hours of the night because they were so fucking weird, but their weirdness was compatible.

Vernon let himself fall all over again. “Sure thing, Kwannie.”

He smiled.

Seungkwan faltered at the nickname, feeling like he was curling up into a ball and hiding from everything else. It brought up so many memories, and Seungkwan didn’t know if he’d rather that they disappeared. 

He returned Vernon’s small, tired smile, because it was _Vernon._

“Congratulations, your baggage is now finally accepted. We hope you had a great time in New York, and please enjoy your flight.”

* * *

Everything else became easy after that, like they had an unspoken agreement to forget about those three years. _For now._

Vernon gave the window seat to Seungkwan, who quickly made himself comfortable, smiling softly at the unusually generous gesture. Years ago, they would’ve fought tooth and nail with each other for it.

* * *

Vernon woke up from his nap hearing sniffles beside him; Seungkwan was watching something on the mini-screen on the plane seats, munching and simultaneously crying on cookies. He squinted, kind of worried, and saw that Seungkwan was watching _School 2013._

“You threw me away a long time ago,” Vernon heard Kim Woobin saying and scrunched his forehead when he heard Seungkwan reciting the lines at the exact same time: “It was over when you left me behind three years ago.”

Vernon didn’t know if Seungkwan was doing it on purpose, but Seungkwan wasn’t even paying attention to him; he was simply crying. Right now, he could understand Lee Jong-Suk. He figured that he must’ve looked as crushed as the actor was on screen. 

“You were already beyond any hope back then. Don’t pretend to be human all of the sudden.”

At this point Seungkwan was _bawling_ \- straight up crying out loud with one shaky hand crushing his cookie. He looked comical and Vernon tried to hold in his laughter, busying himself by calling for tissues.

“Tissue, sir?”

Seungkwan stared at the stewardess offering the pack, before shaking his head and wiping his face. “I don’t need a tissue.”

“You need tissue,” Vernon pointed out, wiping some crumbs off of Seungkwan’s shirt.

“No, I don’t - I don’t need a tissue!” Seungkwan replied firmly, English stilted, then continued in borderline hysterics, turning the tissue away, “I don’t need a tissue, please stop judging me!”

Vernon could feel his face burn as Seungkwan buried his face against his hands and cried; he spared the stewardess the stress and took the tissues before bidding her away, ignoring the eyes that turned to them.

He waited until Seungkwan’s sobs turned into hiccups and by then, the credits were already rolling. He thrusted the pack of tissues to Seungkwan; the man just looked at it before taking it, pulling some strips and dabbing his face with it.

“I really love this series,” Seungkwan said, voice still hoarse. “The cinematography was so good. Kim Woobin nailed the acting. Perfect. Beautiful. A+ show.”

Vernon just hummed and bit his tongue, not letting the _I know_ roll out of his mouth.

* * *

Vernon took charge of picking the movies after, because he didn’t think he could handle another round of Seungkwan’s meltdown. 

Seungkwan was compliant, melting in his seat silently once the embarrassment sank in, only comforted by Vernon’s sympathetic and reassuring pats.

The flight was long, but they spent the time napping and watching Disney movies, keeping their conversations shallow and never really daring to cross any lines. Whatever bitterness Seungkwan had when he first saw Vernon was stowed away, pushed into the farthest places of his mind.

It was dark when the plane approached South Korea, the stars twinkling and the multicolored buildings of Seoul greeting them, as if it missed them.

Next to him, Seungkwan was taking the last leg of his power nap, head barely resting on Vernon’s shoulder. 

He gently intertwined their hands, his heart falling when it still felt the same - as if he never left. He squeezed Seungkwan’s hand as softly as he could, lifting it up and kissing it, being careful not to wake up the older.

* * *

They stood side-by-side at the baggage area, waiting for theirs to roll out. Seungkwan hugged his bag, humming a soft tune while swaying.

“You really followed me all the way here?” Seungkwan said, smiling cheekily and awkwardness dispelled. 

Vernon just rolled his eyes, but fondness couldn’t be erased on his face. “Your things are with me.”

“That’s...yeah,” Seungkwan cleared his throat, before perking up. “Oh, oh - that’s mine, the black one with stickers on it.”

“I’ll get it,” Vernon went and lifted the heavy baggage, grunting. “What the fuck is in this, rocks?”

“Excuse me,” Seungkwan clicked his tongue while rolling the suitcase to his side and ridding Vernon of the weight. “Don’t be like that. My whole life is in this suitcase.”

“Really? Your whole life?” When Seungkwan nodded, Vernon just hummed and tapped his fingers against his lone carrier. “Ah, no wonder you had a lot of excess, then.”

Seungkwan furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you trying to say?”

“Hm? I’m not trying to say anything.”

“No, you are,” Seungkwan pursed his lips, adjusting the straps of his black leather bag that he wore already, “You’re saying that it’s because of the fact that I brought my whole life that I Excessed. _Therefore_ saying that: ‘I shouldn’t have brought them so that I wouldn’t be that burdened bringing them everywhere.’ And that I should’ve left some here at home to come back to, for myself.”

Seungkwan’s tone became increasingly aggressive during the rant, and all Vernon could do was look at him as if he was insane. He saw another familiar carrier, and still had the gall to point at it.

“That’s my other luggage over there. When did you become so judgmental, _Vernon_?”

Vernon quickly went and lifted it from the moving platform, huffing. “I’m not saying anything. I just said that you really did exceed the limit with all the stuff you brought.”

Seungkwan pouted at him before snatching his remaining luggage away. “Let’s just go already.”

“At least give me one of those - ”

“Shut up.”

* * *

“How are you going to get home?”

“Taxi,” Seungkwan replied, leaning on his luggage. “How about you?”

“Taxi.”

They were standing in front of the airport in silence as everyone rushed around them, the air chilly. _South Korea will always feel like home,_ they both thought.

“...Actually,” Seungkwan muttered after a while, staring at a couple flirting with each other in front of them, “I don’t wanna go home yet. How about you?”

Vernon looked at him for a long time before smiling.

* * *

“I didn’t know you have tattoos!”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan force-swallowed the cold ice cream. They were in Kamong, now; a cafe owned by the _noona_ of their mutual friend. The moment Vernon took off his jacket after the ice cream was served, Seungkwan gawked at the flowers adorning his arms with splatters of washed out colors highlighting them. The tattoos wrapped around his biceps, intricate yet simple.

“Did you design them by yourself?”

“Yeah,” Vernon said, pleased with Seungkwan’s reaction. He tried to hide his smile by sipping his drink.

“Do they mean anything?”

“Not really,” Vernon hummed, fiddling with the straws. _But they meant something to you,_ he wanted to say. He decided not to.

Seungkwan grinned at him, and this time Vernon couldn’t help the inevitable pull of his lips, mirroring the grin. “Aw, did you actually listen to my rambles about flower languages back then?”

“Fuck off,” Vernon said with faux anger, but when Seungkwan chortled, he couldn’t stop the tiny breathy laugh leaving him.

“Can I see the whole of it?”

Vernon blinked. Seungkwan just continued looking at him with wide curious eyes. “...Here?”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan clapped, “Come _on_ , show me!”

Vernon flushed and looked around; there was no one else in the cafe except for one old lady in the corner. Seungkwan never stopped urging, hands waving, encouraging him, and he sighed, because three years were not enough to curb his weakness towards one Boo Seungkwan.

“Okay, but I’ll do it fast!”

“Just do it!”

Vernon was embarrassed but he lifted his shirt up to his shoulders anyway, turning around and showing Seungkwan the crisscrossing of the peonies and camellias on his back, vines curling and entangling.

In the middle of it, a small lone sunflower.

He asked himself why he always let Seungkwan urge him to do things he normally wouldn’t, and _man_ could he feel the cashier lady shooting him a dirty look from the counter.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Vernon turned and smoothed down his t-shirt, glad to be covered. He looked up and smirked at the glazed expression in Seungkwan’s face. “You like what you saw?”

Seungkwan snapped out of it and shook his head a little, laughing at himself. He tried to calm himself – it doesn’t mean _anything_ , he insisted, but his brain wasn’t the one winning here.

“Of course. I’ve always been a fan of your art, Hansol. It looks marvelous.”

“You mean my chiseled torso? My greatest masterpiece, I know.”

“You flatter yourself too much.”

Seungkwan reached one hand over to trace a finger on a pink camellia, and Vernon didn’t stop him.

* * *

“Why were you in New York, Hansol?”

“Mom,” Vernon started, taking a piece of Seungkwan’s ice cream into his mouth. “She died.”

Seungkwan immediately sobered up, looking at Vernon with wide eyes. The air suddenly felt colder. “I - _Mom_? When?”

“A year ago,” Vernon said, refusing to look up. 

He didn’t know. Seungkwan didn't know. And he felt _so_ fucking bad not knowing; had he been so estranged from Vernon that he didn’t even catch the news that Vernon’s mother already died? Memories of the beautiful lady cooking dinner and smiling at him whenever he slept over from before invaded his mind and he could feel himself getting smaller. 

“Don’t blame yourself,” Vernon said softly, hand reaching out for Seungkwan’s own shaking one. They were still not looking at each other, but Vernon didn’t need to look at Seungkwan to know his habits. At this point, it was already ingrained in his being. “I hurt you before and you just protected yourself by putting distance between us.”

“I just can’t believe it,” Seungkwan whispered, mind numb, but still registering the way his hand was enveloped by a bigger and warmer one, thumb stroking his knuckle. “She was like my own mom already.”

Silence enveloped them once again, hands still linked.

“Are you okay?”

It was a stupid question, but it was a question Seungkwan had to ask.

“I’m trying,” Vernon gave him a bitter smile. It still hurt during the nights alone, and he couldn’t bear to hear Sofia’s crying. It got better, but it was hell, and in the end Sofia had to be the one to pull him out of his own hell. “But we’re better, Gyeollie and I. We got it.”

Vernon finally looked at Seungkwan, whose eyes were glassy, chewing his lips with a hardened expression. Seungkwan stared at him, and without meaning to, they fell into their old habit of talking with just their eyes.

_I got you, too._

_I know._

His heart screamed. _He’ll always be in love with Seungkwan,_ he realized.

“I know how to cheer you up,” Vernon said, tugging at the trembling hands. It wasn’t until Seungkwan squeezed his that he realized his were trembling, too.

* * *

“ _You see, I haven’t been the same, since that cold November day_ -”

Vernon watched Seungkwan shakily sing Whitney Houston, the light from the _noraebang_ screen and dim signs on the wall being the only ones that illuminated the room. Seungkwan’s voice was a little slurred, bottles of _soju_ on their table along with some food they ordered, and Vernon sighed, a fond smile on his lips as Seungkwan swayed side to side while singing.

“We said we needed space, but all we found,” Seungkwan’s voice cracked, and Vernon heard a sniff. “W-was an empty place.”

Vernon didn’t even blink when there was already a crying Seungkwan beside him, clutching the microphone close to himself and wailing into it. Vernon just scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Seungkwan, rubbing him consolingly. “Hey, why are you crying?”

“Because _he’s_ a jerk,” Seungkwan replied, resting his head on the taller man’s shoulder. “I never stopped loving _you,_ Hansol, but I also loved him - if even just a bit still.”

It was a shock, to say the least - and Vernon couldn’t shake off that ugly feeling of jealousy about this unknown _him_ , but Seungkwan was bawling and he had to think fast.

“Who’s him? What did he do to _my_ Kwannie?”

“We were together for a year,” Seungkwan sniffed, still holding the microphone to his chest and looking at the words on the screen. The music was still playing. “ _Fuck_ , a year! I didn’t get over you completely but I got attached to him and he made it all better.”

Vernon kept quiet, staring at the screen as well. Seungkwan continued. “He was from America too. That was why I was there. I wanted to leave _our_ memories in New York so that I could finally move on with him.”

Seungkwan’s voice was hoarse and cracking. “But I couldn’t bury the box that kept my memories of you. And when I came back to his house, he was there. With a girl. And they were making out!”

He yelled out the last words and sobbed; Vernon just pulled him closer and as he put his chin on Seungkwan’s head. “We were together for a year, Hansol! And that’s –“

Seungkwan cried out, softer this time, nuzzling into the comforting shoulder.

“He told me he loved me.”

Vernon had to take the microphone with his freehand as Seungkwan hugged his torso, burying his face in his chest. He just silently listened, comforting Seungkwan by rubbing his back, habit making him litter small kisses on the crown of his head.

“I wanted to know why. I wanted to know what the fuck I did wrong, to deserve to be cheated on. I wanted to know why he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Would it change anything?” Vernon finally answered, looking down at Seungkwan’s swollen eyes and wet cheeks and red nose. He couldn’t believe someone dared to hurt someone as loving and caring as Seungkwan - but then again, he did as well. His face hardened at the thought. “Would it change anything if he told you?”

“I just want to know why,” Seungkwan bit his lips and clutched Vernon’s shirt tighter. “ _I just want to know why._ ”

“But it wouldn’t change anything even if you know.” Vernon sighed. “Bottomline is, he doesn’t love you anymore.”

Seungkwan regarded him for a while, before resting his head on Vernon’s chest, mumbling, “That really hurts, you asshole.”

Both of them let out a small laugh, tension disappearing.

They just held on to each other, Vernon watching the unsung words flip through the screen as Seungkwan laid on his chest. He thought Seungkwan already fell asleep until he uttered, “Where do broken hearts really go, _Hansollie_?”

Vernon looked at him, eyebrows raising at the old nickname. “What?”

“Busan,” Seungkwan sprang up, looking at Vernon with childlike wonder, the excited Seungkwan looked so happy at his idea that it hurt, holding his hands to his chest. “Let’s go to Busan, Hansollie!”

As the final notes of the song played out, Vernon found himself nodding in agreement.

* * *

Seungkwan woke up with a pounding head and a groan, Vernon’s coat draped over him. He looked around him and saw that he was on the bullet train, head on Vernon’s shoulders as the man napped. He squinted his eyes and tried to remember how he got here.

Just as he felt his headache slowly getting more painful, he felt Vernon shift and realized that he had yet to lift his head from his shoulders. Flushing and ignoring the light blinding his eyes when he moved too quickly, he immediately whispered to Vernon.

“Where are we?”

“New York.”

Seungkwan gasped and shifted his eyes around before nudging a chortling Vernon. “You asshole, stop playing with me.”

“I’m just kidding, why would we be in New York?” Vernon smiled at him, a little giggle bubbling up. “We’re on the way to Busan.”

“ _Busan_?! Why?”

Vernon shrugged, pulling their luggage closer to him. “You said you wanted to go to Busan, so Busan it is.”

“I did?” Seungkwan frowned, before humming and looking around, eyes landing on a lady nearby who was watching some sort of a movie. He discreetly looked at it and once again gasped dramatically, holding Vernon’s hand and making the latter sigh.

“What is it now.”

“She’s watching _Sukyo_ ,” Seungkwan whispered to him, “You know, the one with Kim Mingyu?”

“What of it?” Vernon asked, raising one eyebrow up.

“It’s one of our favorite movies. You know, me and my ex,” Seungkwan pouted. “I love Kim Mingyu so much. He’s such a good actor.”

“You know,” Vernon started, “I don’t get what you all like about Kim Mingyu. He’s not that special. He has a fairly average face -”

He stopped when he saw how affronted Seungkwan looked, pouting. “ _Oh_ , stop pouting.”

“Excuse me, Hansollie, but Kim Mingyu is very lovable!” Seungkwan was still holding Vernon’s hand, a fact that the latter just noticed, making him have to hide his smile. The nickname from last night stuck, and Vernon didn’t want it to go away.

“Kim Mingyu looks like he would hold you really gently and take care of you...but he also looks like he could be aggressive and passionate in love, and that’s what I love about him.”

Seungkwan paused, before adding, “Also, my ex looks like him.”

At this point Vernon snorted in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, I’m not!” Seungkwan took out his phone with his free hand and punched in some buttons, before showing Vernon a picture. “Here! Look at him!”

Vernon squinted his eyes, looking closer and humming, while Seungkwan leaned in anticipation for Vernon’s verdict. The lady beside him sneezed, but he didn’t even hear it.

“ _Hah_!” Vernon exclaimed, “Love _is_ blind. I believe it now.”

Seungkwan pouted and withdrew his phone, nudging the laughing Vernon. “Hansollie, honestly.”

“I look more like Kim Mingyu than _that_ guy, Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan choked on a laugh and gave him a hearty grin. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”

“But I thought you already did.”

They both just stared at each other, the intercom buzzing in the background about the train approaching Busan.

* * *

“You never told me why you pursued Law instead of Fine Arts,” Seungkwan spoke.

They were standing in front of _Spring_ and _Waterfall_ , Kim Chong-Hak’s art pieces housed in the Busan Museum of Art. There were nary a people in the vicinity, it being a quiet day, and Vernon looked at Seungkwan before staring at the art piece in front of him again.

“It was hard, you know,” He started quietly, “I mean, I really liked it. I thought I would be good at it, and even mom supported me. But it was different when school started. Everyone around me was just too good. They all had artists as parents, all had countless years of professional experience under their belts. I paled in comparison.”

Seungkwan shifted his gaze from the painting to Vernon’s profile, to his tattoos. This was the man he came to love, he thought. All kinds of broken and fixed, all kinds of glorious. Vernon longingly looked at the painting, and Seungkwan had to avert his eyes, feeling like that moment was something Vernon could feel.

“I realized I only knew how to do it; that doesn’t mean I’m talented, or skilled. Law was easy,” Vernon shrugged, “I mean, it was for me. There’s money in law. And when you make money, you just want to make more and then you look back and realize, _oh_ , it’s been eight years.”

Vernon laughed humorlessly and stared at the painting with glassy eyes, and Seungkwan stared at it as well. 

Vernon was in front of _Spring,_ just next to him and _Waterfall_. So close yet so far, Seungkwan thought. He could feel the nostalgia bleeding out from Vernon - with it, the feeling of shame.

Shame for what, Seungkwan couldn’t really understand.

“Why don't you paint again?”

“I’m not sure I can. I don’t think I remember how to.”

“Is it possible to unlearn that kind of thing? Surely, you could be rusty, but...You can’t forget how to do it completely, right?”

If Vernon was bothered about the hand clinging to his, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Why don’t you paint me, Hansol?” Seungkwan suggested offhandedly as they moved to another collection, hands linked and swinging between them, shoulders bumping once every minute. “You used to ask me to be your model back then in college.”

Vernon fondly looked at the carefree guy next to him, a soft smile gracing his lips. “We’ll see, Seungkwan. We’ll see.”

* * *

They reached Haeundae Beach via bus. It was too late when they realized what was missing; the bus already sped right off and they were left with their backpacks.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Vernon uttered, staring at the distance. “Fuck. You want to see if we could contact the company?”

Seungkwan just shrugged, looking at the horizon. The sun was setting, painting the sky beautifully with oranges and purples. “Maybe later. It’s just luggage, Hansollie.”

“But that was your whole life, remember?” Vernon stepped closer, and Seungkwan just smiled, tugging his hand.

They ended up rolling in the sand and laughing about everything, feeling like they were back in college again where they would drive around aimlessly, carefree and happy. Vernon bought them crepes from a nearby store and they just watched the sun set, starting a campfire so they wouldn’t be without light.

Seungkwan cuddled into Vernon’s side and Vernon just - breathless, warm: “I love you, Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan froze and looked up at him with wide eyes, the light from the campfire painted across his face perfectly. He croaked out, “What?”

“I love you,” Vernon confessed, firmer this time, staring right into Seungkwan's eyes. “I’ve always loved you. When you confessed to me, I was just too scared, too unsure of everything else. I didn’t stop thinking about you these past three years. _I couldn’t_.”

Seungkwan’s throat felt dry, but he managed a choked _You’re so stupid_ before leaning in and kissing Vernon, fireworks exploded in his eyes when Vernon kissed back, fleeting touches drifted across his arms and cheeks and neck. 

They broke apart and stared at each other for a while, eyes filled with wonder and stars, breathing the same warm air in contrast to the chilly wind.

* * *

Seungkwan woke up to white cotton curtains fluttering in the wind, a cool breeze coming out of the window.

He turned to his side, seeing Vernon sitting on the bed, next to him, sketching something in a familiar, worn-out looking notebook.

“Hansollie,” He calls out, voice raspy from sleep. “You’re up.”

“Hey,” Vernon smiled down at him, setting the notebook aside in favor of making space for Seungkwan to cuddle up his side. “How was your sleep?”

Seungkwan closed his eyes, “It was good. The best I’ve had in years.”

Vernon’s face softened, a hand gently ran through Seungkwan’s hair as he laid on Vernon’s stomach. 

“I’m glad,” He quietly said, adoring Seungkwan’s eyelashes.

Another hand moved to trace Seungkwan’s moles - one underneath his eye, then near his jaw, then the three consecutive ones near his ear. Vernon knew they still had a lot to talk about - he still had a lot to _make up for_ \- but right now, he selfishly wanted to take this moment and make it his.

“They still remind me of constellations,” he muttered.

“What does?” Seungkwan asked, eyes still closed, and already knowing the answer.

Vernon didn’t say anything - just traced the moles in the same route he did, three times.

On the fourth time, he started tracing something different on Seungkwan’s cheek.

He was tracing _saranghae_.

* * *

“Gamcheon!”

Vernon rarely got excited over things, so it made Seungkwan smile wide when the younger man screamed the moment they got down the mini-bus, excitement too much to contain.

Before leaving to go back to Seoul, Seungkwan suggested going to Gamcheon Culture Village. He remembered it to be part of Vernon’s _must visit_ list from years ago, and seeing him so hyped over it made Seungkwan hyped as well, his phone already out to sneak pictures of him.

They strolled through the colorful, blue-roofed houses, tiered and littered with artistic murals that Vernon would gasp and take pictures of. Seungkwan let him, the afternoon sun shone on them as they walked hand-in-hand.

“I love Gamcheon,” Vernon said, a grin on his face as he inspected the walls, “Unlike _Petite France_ , it’s entirely Korean-based.”

“Yeah?” Seungkwan asked, interested but also just eager to hear more of Vernon’s voice, “What’s so special about it?”

“The village is built under the belief of a religion called _Taegeukdo_ ,” Vernon pointed at the tiers, “All homes are built on a tiered layout so that no house is left in another’s shadow. This follows the principle that you have to allow your neighbors to prosper as well.”

“Gamcheon was one of the poorest areas in Busan,” Vernon continued, “So a lot of projects had the villagers painting their houses in pastel colors and inviting local art students to decorate the village.”

They walked through streets randomly, foregoing the map and just getting lost. They fawned over the staircases that look like book spines, and they must’ve taken countless pictures, both silly and aesthetically pleasing.

They reached the Hangul Poem structures, a path led by what looked like mailbox structures. They went up all the way to the rooftop, finding a view that overlooked the whole of Gamcheon. On the far left, they could see all the way out to the bay area.

They leaned on the railing, taking in the view, and Seungkwan stared at Vernon, in all of his beanie and bright yellow hoodie’s glory. He had an almost euphoric expression, mouth exhaling in wonder, eyes sweeping across the place as if he was trying to memorize every detail.

“Hansollie,” Seungkwan called out, a hand tugging at Vernon’s sleeve.

“Kwannie?”

“Can I see it?” Seungkwan finally asked, eyes unsure, but voice tender. “The notebook earlier. Can I see it?”

Vernon flushed, embarrassed, which wasn’t the reaction Seungkwan was expecting. He quickly took off his bag, rummaging through it for a while, before pulling out the worn out notebook.

“I’ll let you see it but,” Vernon pursed his lips, giving Seungkwan a sheepish smile. “Promise me you won’t laugh?”

“I pinky promise.”

Seungkwan held out his pinky, and Vernon just about melted at the gesture, sniffing and locking his own pinky with Seungkwan’s, before pulling him and giving his hand a quick peck.

Before Seungkwan could react, he handed over the notebook.

It looked old, which it _was_ , because Seungkwan _knew_ this notebook. He’d seen it in his room, in Vernon’s room, in their classrooms - but he never knew what was inside of it. The navy blue moleskin still felt soft under his fingers, and he pulled at the lone elastic on the right side, like unwrapping a present.

A tiny doodled _Hansol Vernon Chwe_ greeted him on the first page, and as he turned the pages, he realized that this was Vernon’s sketchbook. 

Sometimes the street sketches are fully colored, most times in different ways. Seungkwan marvelled at the markers, then the watercolors, then the colored pencils. Some were wrought sketches, lines hastily drawn and shapes formed in the simplest ways. There were sketches of the subway, the streets that Seungkwan knew _so well_ , the convenience stores they spent countless nights hanging out in.

He flipped over a page of a sketch of the flower and gasped, eyes wide in surprise as he realized what he was looking at.

It was a sketch of himself.

It was an old sketch, judging from Seungkwan’s cropped hair and school uniform. He was on his desk, looking behind and smiling. 

His eyes quickly fluttered up to Vernon, and the most Vernon could give him was a shy wave, as if he was saying _go on_.

He continued flipping the pages, now starting to remember the times the sketches were made, because of the places presented by the pages. He saw more and more sketches of himself, alongside different kinds of flowers, as if Vernon was doing studies.

There were many kinds of Seungkwans sketched by Vernon, and Seungkwan was trying to hold in his tears - from his short, cropped, brown hair, to his fluffy black hair, to the time where he dyed his hair blonde, then blue - all of it was sketched by Vernon, in varying times, varying circumstances. All dated.

He was more than halfway through when he noticed the date of a certain sketch - him with his blue hair strewn over a pillow, back turned, nape and shoulder exposed. From three years ago.

It was the last time they saw each other, he realized.

He took a deep breath, certain that the next pages would show Vernon’s life _without_ him, in Korea and in New York, but he only let out a gasp.

The next page was him, from this morning. Hair red, strewn all over the pillow of their hotel room, face peaceful and asleep.

He looked up at Vernon, clutching the notebook tightly, eyes glassy.

Vernon stepped forward, taking the notebook and setting it on his bag that was resting on the floor, before cupping Seungkwan’s face and wiping his tears away with his thumb.

“What do I _do_ _with you_?” Seungkwan cried out, sniffing and clutching at Vernon’s hoodie, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“With what?” Vernon laughed, breathily, kissing Seungkwan’s forehead and resting his cheek on it. “I don’t know what to do either. Even if I never felt like sketching again, I’d always bring it with me.”

He hugged Seungkwan’s waist, pulling him closer, forehead-to-forehead, tender and soft and everything else.

“Do you understand, Seungkwan? All this time, I always felt like you were close to me, like this.”

* * *

They were walking along Gwangjang-ro, sunset painting the sky from orange to purple as they quietly made their way to Busan KTX Station, hands clutching each other.

“Thank you,” Vernon said, looking down to peer over Seungkwan, the red head sleepy but content. “For bringing me to Gamcheon.”

“You’re welcome,” Seungkwan replied, eyes twinkling as he met Vernon’s fond gaze, shyly gnawing at his bottom lip before confessing, “I remembered that it was in your bucket list. From before.”

 _I love you so much and I think I want to marry you_ , Vernon thought, but instead of saying it outloud, he stopped them in the middle of the street, and kissed Seungkwan right there and then.

* * *

Vernon watched as the scenery outside the train window blurred, arm comfortably around Seungkwan’s shoulder. Seungkwan played with one of his hands, quietly singing an English song.

_but i’m still in sight_

_your fast machine_

_always holding your love supreme_

_our 45’s_

_spinning out of time_

_but honey i’m still on your side_

Vernon hummed alongside him, finally turning and resting his chin on top of Seungkwan’s head.

“Three years ago,” He trailed off, staring at the front of the train, taking comfort in the lull of Seungkwan’s gentle breathing and quieter hum. “When I ran away from you. I’m sorry. I was genuinely afraid.”

His eyes fluttered down to their intertwined hands, holding each other tightly. 

“I thought, _I’m going to lose him either way_ . I was so scared. I love you _so much_ , but that didn’t mean I’ll never lose you,” Vernon slid his face down, hiding in Seungkwan’s neck. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Seungkwan didn’t answer - Vernon knew it was because he didn’t trust his voice, and instead Seungkwan slowly shifted their position, scooping Vernon in his arms, kissing his temple sweetly.

“I love you,” Seungkwan said, like that explained everything. Maybe it did. “I love you, Hansol.”

Vernon closed his eyes, breathing out.

“I love you too, Seungkwan.”

* * *

They arrived in Seoul late at night, reminiscent of when they landed from the airplane.

With only their carry-ons, they wait dutifully by the taxi line near the station, Seungkwan’s arm around Vernon’s waist, Vernon’s around Seungkwan’s shoulder.

“Where are you going to stay?” Seungkwan finally asked, head resting on Vernon’s shoulder, eyes feeling heavy still.

“Not really sure,” Vernon laughed, not sounding at all worried. “You don’t happen to have a free space at your place?”

Seungkwan smiled and pretended to think for a while, before saying, “You’re lucky I have an extra space next to me on my bed.”

“Do I have to pay?”

“Maybe.”

Seungkwan tilted his head back, lips pursed, like asking for a kiss.

Who was Vernon to deny that?

He leaned down, heart flipping as he felt Seungkwan’s smile through it.

* * *

Seungkwan rested his head on Vernon’s shoulder, both of them relaxed and at peace at the backseat of the taxi.

Seoul at night sparkled with thousands of pretty lights, and Vernon missed the feeling of home. He kept his hold around Seungkwan - his anchor, grounding him, keeping his life at its bounds.

They still had so many things to talk about; to catch up to, to establish - but Vernon knew that he wasn’t going to leave, that he’d stay. 

The driver switched the radio station, and Jimmy Brown’s _2 Things_ started playing. He silently sang along with Seungkwan, giggling when Seungkwan made a faux annoyed sound when Vernon butchered a note.

They were nearing an underpass and Seungkwan whispered, “Do you remember this?”

“If you manage to hold your breath as you pass through the underpass, your wish will come true?”

Seungkwan nuzzled against Vernon’s neck, folding comfortably. “You remember.”

“I think I remember everything you tell me, Kwannie.”

Vernon laughed, just a little bit more in love, and more than a little bit okay. 

“Make your wish.”

They straightened up a bit, looking at each other - three years worth of longing, of love, of fondness - before staring at the incoming underpass, and Vernon inhaled:

_I wish we're like swallows on the beam,_

_Staying together year-out, year in._

**Author's Note:**

> might write a sequel/prequel, because i honestly fell in love with the world i created for these two.  
> if you're reading this, thanks for pulling through!


End file.
